Crafty
by Rayless Night
Summary: When you can't solve a case, you're left with nothing to do but brood on it. Naoto Shirogane hates brooding, but she's excessively good at it. Whether Kanji and Nanako will help or hinder her is another case by itself.


_Author's Note: This is a humor fic, but in places, it borders on crack-fic. But an intelligent crack-fic. _

_Disclaimer:__ Persona 4__ is the property of Atlus. Rating is for language.

* * *

_**Crafty**

Naoto Shirogane understood the value of voice mail, in the same way she understood the value of booster shots. Necessary, perhaps helpful, but not something she wanted to face on a daily basis. Particularly on the job. For the third time that morning, she stood, phone to her ear, waiting for Dojima to pick up. She'd unknowingly halted at the bus stop, and the bus waited behind her, doors open.

Just as Naoto had reconciled herself to another miss, she heard Dojima's voice, out of breath and out of sorts. "Yeah, yeah, okay, what is it?"

Naoto set her own voice into a smooth, businesslike clip. "Dojima-san, I've picked up a new lead on the-"

"Fox case?"

Naoto blinked. "Er - no. The Kujikawa break-in." She waited for his response. Through the connection, she could hear the sound of someone swearing and something large crashing to the ground. Dojima muttered something she couldn't catch. Naoto frowned. "Fox case?"

"It started with this ema asking for the mayor to be ousted, and that fox appeared who - never mind. Listen, I need to - _damn!_ - clean some things up, and - _Just call Animal Control already!_ - Look, go to my house and I'll meet you there and - AGH!"

The connection terminated on the sound of vehement growling that Naoto was sure she recognized. Frowning and glancing up the street towards the shrine, she decided she'd do better to follow Dojima's instructions. Souji was the only one who knew the fox. She wouldn't do any good by butting in. After calling Animal Control and directing them towards the mayhem (they seemed reluctant to go), she flipped her cell shut and happened to notice the bus.

"Look, kid, are you getting on?"

"Uh-" Naoto blinked, unaccustomedly flustered. "No." She bowed her head quickly. "Forgive me for detaining you." And walked away before the bus driver could come down and strangle her.

The delay was aggravating; one thing she still disliked about working with others was that they tended to slow her down. But if she had to wait on Dojima, waiting with Nanako certainly wasn't the worst way to spend a midsummer morning. It almost made it worth it, agreeing to help the Inaba Police Force on another case. Still sorting the details she'd learned concerning the break-in, she knocked twice on the Dojimas' door.

Naoto expected the hesitation that followed. Last year, Nanako would have run for the door. Since her kidnapping, she'd gradually re-accustomed herself to opening the front door, but it still frightened her. Dojima had even had a small peephole drilled in the door specifically at Nanako's eye level.

But Nanako smiled as sweetly as ever as she opened the door. "Naoto-kun!"

"Good morning, Nanako. Your father invited me to wait here until he returns from...the shrine."

Nanako bounced on her feet and stepped back from the door, allowing Naoto to enter. "Do you wanna help us with the platypus?"

"Platy...pus?" And with a semi-loud bang, Naoto's attention was drawn to the immediate left, the Dojimas' small kitchen. From what she could tell - and she drew a pretty sweet income from her powers of deduction - Kanji must have overturned the stainless steel mixing bowl in a sudden movement, catching it just before it tumbled off the counter to the floor below. "Good morning," Naoto said mildly, deciding it would be better not to draw any attention to the fumble. "I didn't know you were here."

"Kanji's helping me make a platypus." Nanako rolled on the balls of her feet for a moment, swinging her arms. "We're making papier-mâché."

"Dojima-san wanted someone to watch her," Kanji said, squaring the bowl back on the counter and avoiding eye-contact. "It was either this or Junes."

"Yes, Yosuke-senpai called me up this morning too," Naoto said. "I couldn't help him either. Junes always seems to be understaffed."

"I'd _love_ to work at Junes," Nanako effused.

"Hey, we're working on the platypus," Kanji reminded her, still not looking up. "You gotta keep shredding the newspapers, Nanako-chan."

Nanako latched onto Naoto's hand and drew her further into the house. The low table was strewn with newspapers, several layers serving as a protective bedrock, quite a few more waiting to be destroyed. A pair of plastic pink safety scissors lay at the ready. "D'you wanna help, Naoto?"

She felt a bit out of her league, but..."I see no reason why not." And smiled, because Nanako was clearly delighted. Naoto glanced from one to another. "Is this some sort of summer school project?"

Nanako put her hands on her hips. "I don't need summer school. I got good grades."

"Then why?"

"We just wanted to make a platypus." Kanji's back was to them, but they could hear the defensiveness. "That's all."

"Wait a minute while I get you some scissors." Nanako jogged out of the living room, probably into her own room. Naoto put her hands behind her back and complacently regarded the newspapers' headlines. She didn't expect Kanji to make small talk. She found him to be a valuable teammate, like the others, but he always seemed very guarded around her. Probably she'd inadvertently insulted him at one point last year when they'd first met and he hadn't gotten over it. Well, if it was painful for him, there was no point in bringing it up.

"Here you go." Re-entering, Nanako handed her a pair of purple scissors. She knelt next to the table. "Kanji says we should cut them into long strips like this." She demonstrated, slashing apart an article about a forthcoming _Final Fantasy_ game, delayed for the sixth time. She waited until Naoto had also knelt and set to work before looking up with that expression - that considering expression that reminded Naoto of Souji. "Why does Dad want you to wait here?" Fear tightened the corners of her eyes. "Is there some criminal?"

"There's been a robbery at Rise-chan's." Naoto glanced up from cutting to gauge Nanako's reaction. She didn't want the little girl to think there was another psycho loose, not even for a moment. Nanako still looked disturbed, but the fear was less immediate.

"What'd they take?" Kanji asked from the sink. He was stirring the glue and water mixture. "They don't keep much there, just tofu. Was it the cash register?"

"No, it was the notes for her upcoming album. She kept them all in that one notebook, and given the right buyer, the thief stands to make a lot of money."

"Damn, that's low."

For the past months, ever since Souji had returned to the city, Rise had been in a flurry over working on her new album, tossing out song ideas to the others, making them read lyrics (and rewritten lyrics; and re-rewritten lyrics. "Guys, will one of you please give me a word that rhymes with _Persona_? A word other than _Ramona_. I don't even know anyone named Ramona!"). They all felt they'd had a share in suffering through these songs, but for Rise, it would be like part of herself had been stolen. _She'll probably write a song about it,_ Naoto thought.

"Dammit, I sweated forty-five minutes over that 'Bare It or Bear It' song." Kanji plunked the bowl down between the two girls and headed back for the sink. "She caught me at the shop. It's not like I could get away, and she wanted a rhyme for _underestimated_." He returned with a bizarre coat hanger apparatus in his arms. As he set it down, Naoto realized it was a surprisingly complex wire support for a platypus. Still maintaining a certain distance from herself, he pulled a deflated green balloon from his pocket, set it to his lips, and commenced puffing.

Naoto had paused mid-snip, her scissors poised over the photo of a car ad. "Is there going to be a party too?"

"Only if we call Yosuke." Nanako giggled. "Do you think he'd bring us a Junes cake?"

Kanji closed off the balloon with his thumb and forefinger. "It's to shape the platypus' head." He tied off the closure. "We'll put the papier-mâché around it, then pop it when it's dry." Nanako grinned at this.

"I see," Naoto said, studying the wire structure again. "You'll attach the head...here, I suppose?"

"Yeah," Nanako answered. "We're going to make it life-size, and then Kanji promised he'd sew a fluffy covering for it, so it'll be just like a real platypus!" She patted the wire. "I just wish we could make it swim like a real one."

"I'm afraid that would be difficult," Naoto said. She turned her attention back to snipping - then glanced at the wire - then snipped - then glanced up again. Then set down her scissors and picked the wire up in both hands, turning it to and fro.

"Uh - whoa - watch it," Kanji warned.

Naoto didn't heed him. "If you're going to attach the head here, I suppose it would be possible...if I had a small, battery-powered motor, I could make its head move for you, Nanako."

Nanako's already-round eyes grew rounder. "R-really?"

"Yes. It wouldn't be that problematic." Naoto set the skeleton down, the corner of her mouth lifting sheepishly. "I like working with electronics and gadgets. My grandfather used to give me broken watches to mend when he couldn't attend to me. It could keep me occupied all day."

Nanako sighed. "I wish we had a motor."

"I'll order one," Naoto promised. "And next time you want to do crafts, we can play around with it."

"Be right back," said Kanji, getting up.

"My teacher taught us how to do this," Nanako said, easing one long newspaper strip into the gluey mixture. She crinkled her nose. "It's all icky." They worked in silence for several minutes, trying to lay the strips as smoothly as possible across the warped coat hangers. "Do you think you can catch the robber?"

Naoto's mind, caught up in the joys of tiny motors, delicate levers, gears that shimmered as they spun, and minuscule machines that could only be dissected under the eye of a microscope, was jerked back to the present. "Oh....Most likely. If it's a thief, he's going to have to sell the goods sooner or later, and we'll catch him then. And if it's a stalker, well, stalkers can be crafty, but most of them want to be caught. It's about getting attention." She broke off, wondering if such talk would have a bad effect on Nanako, but the little girl seemed unperturbed. "Still, we'd like to stop this as soon as possible. For Rise's peace of mind as much as the dignity of the Inaba police." Dignity that had suffered much during the last year.

"Do you have any clues?"

Naoto's blue eyes narrowed. There were plenty of leads but few actual clues; people had been in and out of the tofu shop all during the day of the robbery, Rise and her grandmother had been in and out of the front room. There had been many opportunities for a thief to slip inside the house. And Rise's grandmother was trusting enough that she felt security cameras would be an insult to her patrons. Naoto sighed, imagining the moment when she'd have to tell Dojima that they'd have to follow up on every customer, every last one. It wasn't enough to ask if anyone "suspicious" had been sighted; there was no reason to assume a local hadn't made off with the notebook.

"It's hard to say at this point." Her face must have looked tired - or maybe ill - because Nanako reached over one slightly sticky hand and patted her knuckles.

"Here," said Kanji, kneeling at the table again.

Naoto straightened in surprise, then wiped her hands on a newspaper's edge and reached for the small object in Kanji's palm. As her fingertips grazed his skin, he sort of yelped and his hand jumped up, but she caught the motor, holding it between two fingers. Reaching into her pocket, she withdrew a small geologist's magnifying glass, sliding out the lens for a better look.

Kanji cleared his throat. "Will it work?"

"Yes," Naoto said after a moment, absorbed in the minute machinery. "But I'll need a battery canister, and some wiring..."

"Be right back," said Kanji, getting up.

"This'll need a another layer," said Nanako, picking up the bowl and heading to the kitchen for more glue and water.

* * *

By noon, the skeleton was almost entirely papered and they were getting hungry. For the past hour, Naoto had abandoned the papier-mâché bowl and concentrated on sorting out the platypus' internal wiring. Nanako had added shell after shell of glue-soaked paper, determined to make her creation durable. Kanji, when he wasn't off getting things for Naoto, was the only one who kept any track of the time, and it was he who suggested they break for lunch. Naoto glanced at the clock, felt briefly annoyed that Dojima still hadn't gotten back to her. And then she went back to the problem of setting up the platypus' tail (if she connected the wires right, those movements could be governed by the same apparatus that controlled the head) and followed the other two out of the house.

Her brain was still spinning with ideas so she didn't notice where they were going, but she wasn't surprised when she realized they were at Junes' food court. Nanako, enthroned in her plastic chair, swung her legs and gave Kanji the money for a Lemony-Sweet Junes Kebab with a side of Ultimate Fries. Naoto passed over the money and an order for the Gingery Chicken Salad. Salad helped her think better, usually.

"Hey, Nanako-chan. Getting baby-sat? I thought I saw Kanji-kun walking by with way too much money." Rise walked over to their table, a soft drink in one hand, a Teddie plushie in the other. (Junes had started selling them as their unofficial mascot; they were nice but mass-produced, and had none of the artistry of Teddie's gift to Nanako.) "How's it going, Naoto-kun?" She was an actress, but she couldn't hide the worry on her forehead. "Any breakthroughs?"

"Not yet," Naoto admitted, reluctantly dragging her mind away from the platypus. (It was a shame they couldn't waterproof papier-mâché; it was a shame, because if they just could, Naoto was sure she'd have that platypus swimming for Nanako. Maybe even diving. Maybe Kanji knew of some waterproof material he could sew it into...?)

"Yeah." Rise's voice was soft with disappointment. "Well - you know. I can always write more songs. I've been working on a few." She sipped her soda. "I've got this new one, it's called 'Scanning Our Thoughts'. But I'm having trouble rhyming _Himiko_." Another sip. "My producer's saying the album's too tripped-up and existentialist. He wants more love songs. Honestly. I mean, c'mon, this album is full of deep confessional poetry, not soft drink jingles. Besides, I told him that 'Star of the Midnight Channel' and 'Sparkle Sparkle (Is That Really Teddie?)' both have sort of lovey lyrics, but he just goes on and on about-"

"I know it'll be okay," Nanako said quickly. "So you don't have to worry about more songs." Only her cute face could have pulled that dodge off.

"Yes." Naoto straightened her narrow shoulders. "I'll do everything I can to bring the thief to justice." She looked up at Rise. "Not merely because you're my friend, but because you - shouldn't have to write more songs, and it's - it's - for the greater good."

Rise tipped her head, raising one eyebrow suspiciously, then glittered with a smile. "I've got a great idea for another song! 'Naoto, My Friend the Cross-Dresser.'"

"I never cross-dressed," Naoto expostulated, feeling that horrible blush on the back of her neck. She certainly had - and did - but it was not something she wanted to be immortalized in song for. "I merely...dressed in an ambiguous manner. You all assumed I was male."

"You wore a boy's uniform, Naoto-chan."

Naoto grasped at straws. "Well - and all the boys have cross-dressed too. In fact, most of your friends are cross-dressers!"

"Uh," said Kanji, standing there with a loaded tray. He glanced from Naoto to Rise, not embarrassed, just lost.

Rise flapped her hand good-naturedly. "All right, fine. I'll change it to 'All My Friends are Cross-Dressers.' Ooo, 'My Boyfriend's a Cross-Dresser'. Senpai will love that. Too bad he didn't win the pageant. Well, have fun with your lunch. Grandma wants me to pick up a few more things." And she trotted off, smiling.

Kanji slid the tray to the center of the table and sat. "You really got no idea who that shitter is?"

Naoto glanced over. "The thief? No. It could be anyone. I've got some people out at the moment, trying to find clues, but when they get back to me is anyone's guess." And Dojima... She glanced down at her cell pocket, debating whether she should call him again. Was risking his wrath worth it? Was risking more Rise lyrics-writing-sessions worth it? She decided she'd think more clearly after she ate.

Kanji had a plate of meat chunks in sauce. In between bites, he said, "Well, don't let it get you down. You'll catch him." He still didn't look at her, but it was nice.

Naoto rubbed her forehead. "It's always bad when there's a case like this. When I have something personal at stake. It can be hard to think clearly."

"Don't worry," Nanako said, passing her some fries. "If you don't catch the thief, Rise will still be your friend. I don't think she'll...really write that song about you."

Naoto sighed, closed her eyes, and tried to think.

* * *

The case was barely thirty-six hours old - it was fresh - but Naoto still felt deflated as they returned to the Dojimas'. Kanji had bought some fluffy brown fabric, darker fabric for the bill, feet and tail, and some bead eyes. And a lot of strong thread. Yosuke had sauntered by at one point, glaring at them over his Junes apron. He might've complained about being overworked and/or mentioned Kanji's purchases if Kanji hadn't given him a look that promised a skein of pink yarn shoved down his throat and two knitting needles up his nostrils. So Yosuke had just bought Nanako two boxes of candy and gone back to work.

Naoto knelt and set to work on the wiring, but her zest was gone. In truth, the whole police force felt dispirited over their recent foibles; having taken several jobs for them, Naoto couldn't help feeling she partook of their embarrassment. And now this, her own friend robbed. They'd get the notebook back, but it couldn't change the fact that the crime had occurred. And then, then Rise would have her notebook and songs all back again, which was just as bad (maybe worse) as her writing new songs. Naoto lowered the small motor to her lap and wondered how much, in the end, anything was worth it.

POP.

Naoto jumped. Nanako clapped and cradled her platypus' now hollow head, reaching in to remove the streamers of burst balloon. Kanji blew on the end of his needle, then picked up his sewing case, selecting a tough brown spool.

Nanako wrote down the platypus' measurements for Kanji, then settled down to watching TV while her baby-sitters labored, Naoto connecting the wires and motors inside the platypus, Kanji sewing the fluffy outer coat (which ended up looking like platypus-shaped pajamas, masterfully stitched). Naoto drilled holes for the platypus' eyes and anchored them. Nanako started on dinner. Eventually, the news came on. Naoto bent over the platypus' head during the brief segment on the Kujikawa robbery. "...Inaba Police Force has come under heavy criticism recently. We can only hope this isn't another link in a chain of failures and near-misses."

"Lousy bastards," Kanji muttered, pausing only to cut a thread with his side teeth. "They can talk. When's the last time they beat pavement looking for a perp, huh?"

Naoto had never been good at - and probably never would be good at - hiding her pessimism. "I haven't punished much pavement today, I'm afraid. I'm failing my duties as much as the others."

"Aw, don't let Nanako-chan hear that." Kanji glanced over his shoulder, forehead puckered.

Nanako had just cut the stove's heat, regarding her saucepan with satisfaction. After a moment, she turned and looked back at the two of them. "Hey...Naoto-kun? I just remembered something." Naoto glanced up, but Nanako just pivoted and trotted into her room.

Naoto watched as Kanji tucked the overcoat into place, fitting it snugly over the bill and beaver-like tail, then patted the completed platypus. His eyes flicked uncertainly to her. "You think it's going to work?" Wordlessly, Naoto picked up the small remote Kanji had gotten her earlier in the day and pressed the red button. With the softest of whirrings, the platypus lifted its head, moved it from left to right twice, then thwumped its tail on the ground. Kanji broke into a wide, toothy grin. Even Naoto smiled. She'd made plenty of gadgets before, but there was something...nice about having crafted a child's plaything.

"Still," she said after a moment, "I can only hope the break-in resolves itself so nicely." She put the remote down by the platypus. "Everything for this project came together so neatly, so inevitably almost. I never thought it would be this easy." Kanji rubbed the back of his neck. "But with crime cases...nothing comes together on its own. You have to yank on every tangled lead you find and hope one or two real clues come in with the mess."

"But...that's what you're good at. I mean, right?"

"Sorting messes? I suppose." She lowered her gaze. "The sad thing is, whenever you solve a case, you're always left with someone's crime. You always know you're going to meet something ugly at the heart of it."

"Um, here," said Nanako softly.

Naoto and Kanji both looked over. Nanako stood holding a small pink paisley notebook.

Naoto recognized it instantly, remembered from many agonized lunches with Rise. "That's-"

"I didn't know what it was," Nanako insisted. "Rise left it here when she baby-sat me two days ago. She wouldn't let me read it 'cause she said it was personal, so I thought it was her diary. But then I remembered you talking about a notebook..."

Naoto took the notebook and, diary or not, flipped back the front cover. The first page was a column of lyrics, headed by the title 'Golden Bikini Blues', crossed out and rewritten several times. "Nanako-chan!"

Nanako scuffed her feet. "I'm sorry."

"It's not your fault, but-" Naoto gasped with relief. "I can close the case." She stood. "I have to run this over to Rise right now." Nanako protested, but let her go without much argument. Naoto jogged out into the streets. The sun was slanting towards evening, the air loud with cicadas.

A door banged behind her. "Hey - Naoto - hold on!" Naoto half-turned and let Kanji catch up. His face was tense, almost angry. "You can't turn that in yet."

"Why?"

"Because - dammit - what're the news bitches going to say now? They're going to laugh themselves shitless when they hear about this."

Naoto looked at the paisley cover. "Undoubtedly. But-" She released another pent-up breath. "It's embarrassing, but better than an actual tragedy. At least no one goes to jail."

"But-" Kanji made helpless clutching motions. "You gonna lose your cred because of this? I mean, a false alarm and all?"

Kanji was getting worked up again. Naoto wasn't always sure what brought it on or how long it would last, but she reasoned the smartest thing to do would be to ride it out. "I doubt it."

"Are you sure?"

"Of course not. But I'm as sure as a professional detective can be."

Kanji stared down at her from his impressive height. "I - gah - argh - _I'll_ steal the book, okay? I'll steal the book and make it look like a real robbery, and then the cops can hunt me down and then you - you won't look so - so bad-"

It wasn't in keeping with her favored, hard-boiled detective demeanor, but Naoto's eyes bugged out. "Don't be ridiculous, Kanji-kun. I'll return the book to Rise, the media will have a five minute laugh, then it will all blow over."

"You'll return the book to Rise? Dammit, Naoto, don't you realize what'll happen?" He punched the air. "She'll write those friggin' songs! And record them! And people will hear them!"

Naoto swallowed the sick surge of nausea in her throat. "I - it's my duty."

Kanji took a deep breath and squared his shoulders, looking her in the eye. "Let me steal the book, Naoto. I'll throw it in the Samegawa."

Naoto's nails dug into the notebook's soft cardboard. "I - no. You've already gotten in trouble with the force, this would land you in the penitentiary."

"Get me off on a technicality! I know you can do it. You can do anything."

"I'm not sure I could. I mean, you say _technicality_, but I don't know if there's actually one that would-"

"I don't care! Naoto. Don't-" he looked into her face "-don't tell me it wouldn't solve all our problems."

She stared up.

He set his jaw.

The cicadas chirped.

She passed the notebook over. He clutched it to his chest. Naoto's voice seemed to come from far away. "I'll watch Nanako while...while you go commit a crime."

"No problem." And he set off at a run.

Somehow, she found herself back in the house. She must have said something, given some explanation, because Nanako was saying, "You mean that was the wrong notebook? Okay." She smiled with relief. "I didn't wanna think I'd actually stolen something."

Naoto nodded faintly.

* * *

Ryotaro Dojima sighed as he let himself into his silent house. Three a.m.. It had been a bad day all around, first that fox fracas and then... Well, he couldn't really follow it, but something about the Tatsumi kid drowning Rise Kujikawa's liner notes. He was still being detained at the police station. Meanwhile, Shirogane was arguing the chief of police into the very pavement, something about letting Tatsumi go on some obscure technicality that Dojima had frankly never heard of in ten years of service. And then, around eleven thirty, Rise Kujikawa herself had burst in on the scene and almost attacked Tatsumi, saying something about a conspiracy. And, like magic, all those other kids had appeared, the Amagi girl and her friend and the Junes kid and the mascot boy and - he couldn't keep track of them. And then, at midnight, Souji had called from the city, he'd heard about the theft online, and he and his friends just _had_ to talk for the next two hours...meanwhile, the police chief was trying to get Dojima on his side, but Dojima knew better than to argue with Those Kids....

And he had the early shift this morning, starting in no fewer than two hours. No point going to bed. And he was starving. Grumbling, he shuffled over to the pantry, grabbed the first canned comestible his hand found, and slung it under the battery-powered can opener, pressing the button. Nothing happened. Squinting, Dojima bent to study the can opener. Nothing looked wrong with it. Something up with the motor? Well, he was too tired to analyze it further. He opened the fridge and nabbed a carton of pudding. As he crossed to the sitting area, he reached to click on a lamp. The lamp clicked fine, but no light came on. Dojima whacked it once, twice, tried again. No light.

Muttering about shitty wiring, he flumped down on the sofa, alone in the near darkness but for his pudding. After a moment, he reached for the remote and angled it towards his only friend in times like this, the TV.

There was the softest of whirrings. Dojima's eyes were drawn to a dark shape on the table. It wasn't a very large shape, but it was distinct and totally unfamiliar. And then, in the quiet darkness, it moved.

It was a reflex, really. He was tired, his nerves raw. Under any other circumstances, he never would have screamed.

But he did.

The neighbors heard. Too afraid to investigate themselves but knowing that Dojima was a detective with potential enemies, they called the police. Several of the police force were on hand, quite awake, including one of Japan's finest investigators. The police chief was glad to get rid of her and sent her and some support out immediately. Well-satisfied, he packed off the rest of those teenagers, including the notes-drowner, and decided to call it a night.

It had been odd though, the police chief thought, the way Shirogane had hesitated before leaving for the Dojimas'. She was usually so quick to act on things like this.


End file.
